


Accidents

by crybabycry



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: ABDL, Age Play, Bed-Wetting, Daddy Kink, Desperation, Diapers, Don't Like Don't Read, Humiliation, Little Johnny, M/M, Pants wetting, Paul is a sweet daddy, Thumb-sucking, Wetting, daddy paul
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-09-07 00:28:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20300452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crybabycry/pseuds/crybabycry
Summary: A traffic jam forces Paul and John to come clean to each other about fetishes they've kept hidden





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all! I'm amazed that this won't be the first Beatles diaper fic posted on here, even moreso than they've all happened around the same time. This is not non-sexual ageplay though, this is very much sexual. If you don't like it, then don't read it--simple.

John grit his teeth and bounced his leg so vigorously that his knee looked like a blur, willing the blocked traffic to start moving again. Think of dry things, Johnny boy, he told himself; deserts, sandpaper, cat tongues, anything to take attention off of the weight currently pressing down on his bladder. In a rain storm, however, that was much easier said than done.

“Jesus Henry Christ, did the bloody queen croak or something?!” John cursed, smacking the dashboard and making Paul jump in the driver’s seat. “What is the goddamn hold up?”

“There must have been an accident. You know how people drive when it’s raining and they’ve got to go to the loo.” Paul shot a teasing smile at his lover who glowered in return. “Do you really have to go that badly? You should have just gone at the studio.”

“How was I to know that what took five minutes this morning would take twenty now?” John groaned and shifted in his seat to position his legs underneath him. “It’d be faster to get out and walk.”

“You’re welcome to, but I doubt you’d make it very far before you got mobbed by girls. And then you’d never make it to a toilet.” Paul grinned again, and reached his hand out to squeeze John’s shaking knee. “What a sight that’d be, huh? I’d have to swoop in to save the day and take care of you.”

John immediately went red in the face, making Paul let out a small chuckle before turning his head and swore as he saw there was at least three yards between him and the car ahead of him, the car awkwardly lurching forward. John yelped at the sudden movement and to his horror, felt a tiny spurt of pee escape him.

“Sorry, Johnny, got distracted. We’ll be home in just a few minutes, try to hold it in, okay?”

Shit, did he know? Paul seemed to have almost unnatural perception at times; John sometimes feared, despite how irrational it was, that Paul could read his mind. After all, that would explain how his best friend also happened to be as insatiably kinky as himself, who not only got turned on by the same things, but figured out what John liked before he did. John certainly never imagined what would get him off would be getting his arse spanked raw and calling Paul “Daddy”, but he couldn’t argue with the resulting explosive orgasms. Submitting to Paul in such an earnest and vulnerable way was such a thrill to John, something that ached in him when he couldn’t have it, making him want to lash out. Paul would “punish” John for acting out, and John would be satisfied until the cycle started again. 

“Fuck!” John cried out as the traffic came to a halt once again, tears beginning to creep into his voice. “Paul, I’m not joking, I really need to go.”

To his ever-growing amazement with the man he called his partner, Paul let out a low, guttural moan of arousal. Abashed, he glanced at John, who was staring at him with eyes wide. “Er… Can I play that as needing to piss as well?”

“Nah, mate, I know you too well.” He grinned, even though he felt like he may burst before they even reached Paul’s neighborhood. “Care to explain?”

Paul kept his eyes on the road, but two distinct red apples began to take form on his cheeks. “I… may like… I may really like… the idea… of someone pissing themselves.”

The smile on John’s face threatened to break his cheekbones if he pressed the corners any wider. “Ooh, James Paul McCartney! Who would dream such a nice, clean boy was into something so dirty?”

Paul’s blush deepened further and his expression hardened. “Oh, fuck off, John,” he grumbled. “If you don’t want to, that’s totally fine, but don’t make fun of me. I didn’t want to say anything, I just figured if ever there was a time to share, this would be it.”

John took Paul’s hand in his, stroking his fingers with his thumb. “I’m not trying to make fun of you,” he murmured, “is this something you really want?”

Paul reached out and stroked his hair, humming softly in agreement. “I was on the bus, must’ve been… fourteen? Fifteen? Something like that, anyway. There was this cute bird that caught my eye when I got on, and as we rode, she got real fidgety… Started blushing hard, looking like she was about to cry. When she got up for her stop, she had a big wet spot on the back of her skirt, and her stockings were absolutely ruined. But Jesus Christ, Johnny, I had a stiffy bigger than a clock tower watching her. Couldn’t get it out of my head.” Paul shifted and only then did John realize how aroused his lover was getting recounting this memory.

“Do I have to do it on a bus?” he asked, mostly deadpan, though enough warmth in his voice to let Paul know he was only joking. He wasn’t trying to give anything anyway, but there was a hot tickle in his stomach that nearly sent him writhing into Paul’s arms. 

Paul didn’t seem to notice; he looked chagrined, absolutely ashamed of what he had confessed to, after all they had done together so far. “I’m so sorry, Johnny, it was a mistake, I won’t—”

“Macca, shush.” He wriggled in his seat again, desperate to finally arrive at Paul’s home. “I’m glad you told me. That may be… Something I’d like to try…”

“You… really?”

Swallowing hard, John whispered, so softly that Paul could barely hear it, even only being inches away, “Yeah. I like it.”

“Oh honey,” Paul moaned quietly, and despite being in the middle of a traffic jam, pulled John into a deep kiss. “Please,” he whispered after they detached, “please don’t be embarrassed about it, not with me. For years, Johnny, I’ve been dreaming about cute girls wetting their knickers, and big tough lads pissing their trousers, and now… you…” He trailed off, proceeding to kiss John all over his face until he started laughing. “Tell me everything, Johnny.”

John giggled but abruptly cut himself off with a sharp gasp as another shiver racked through his body. “I will, I promise, we just need to get home! I need to go so bad, Paul…”

“We’re almost there, honey.” They were finally able to turn off the main street onto Paul’s, and as Paul’s stately three-story house came into view, John felt another dribble leak out of him and into his underpants. Fortunately there was no gaggle of girls outside as usual, a small miracle that grew exponentially as John stepped out of the car with shaking legs to see a prominent wet splotch right on the crotch of his blue jeans.

Paul stopped mid-stride when he saw John look down at his lower half, then back to him with shocked, embarrassed eyes, but after a brief moment, continued forward like nothing had happened, taking John by the elbow and leading him briskly inside. “I guess now we know that I need to check when you need to go potty, is that right? We were only in the car for twenty-five minutes; adults are able to hold it that long.”

John moaned and another hot trickle of pee ran down his leg. They were almost to the loo, only steps away, and finally, there they were. John’s trembling fingers fumbled frantically with his jean button, but Paul slapped them away. As John yelped and drew his hands close to his chest, Paul closed the lid of the toilet and sat down.

“Paul! What are you doing?!” John wailed. “I need to go, please!!!”

“It looks like you already did, Johnny.” There wasn’t any malice on Paul’s face, just the gentle teasing and admonishment that John found was often present when they played these games. John knew, and Paul knew, that John could get Paul to stand and let him use the toilet easily, either by force or simply by saying that he wasn’t playing the game. John truly hadn’t anticipated this when they left the studio… but who was he to look a gift horse in the mouth?

“Please, please, Paulie,” he whimpered, clutching himself and bouncing desperately from leg to leg. “I don’t wanna pee myself like a… like a baby…”

“Love, you’ve already got pee all over your jeans. Just let it all go and Daddy will clean you up.”

His mouth dropped open into a small “o” as the floodgates broke. The sound of liquid splattering on the tile below, the overwhelming feeling of heat in his groin, the acrid smell, but above all, Paul’s expression of pure fucking lust consumed John and he burst into tears as he pissed himself. The pathetic sobs and wails filled the small room as Paul took John in his arms, disregarding any notion of keeping himself clean.

“It’s okay, love,” he whispered into John’s ear, stroking his hair while John sobbed into his chest. “You just had a little accident, nothing’s broken. We’ll get you cleaned up, we’ll wash your jeans, and everything will be right as rain, you’ll see.”

“You’re not mad at me?” The plaintive little voice that came out of Paul’s normally boisterous and hellraising partner made him wince ever so slightly. Paul could tell him a hundred different ways, put it in writing, and have it legally notarized, yet John still wouldn’t believe him. Despite John’s best efforts at bravado, he was still a very sensitive, needy little boy underneath it all.

“I’m not mad in the slightest,” Paul said, kissing John softly on the forehead. John seemed to have finished emptying his bladder, and he shifted uncomfortably in the little puddle he made. “Let’s get you cleaned up, shall we?” 

With strong fingers, he was easily able to open the jeans button that John had failed at earlier. He pushed the jeans down past John’s thighs and his underpants with it, leaving John’s wet privates exposed in the cool air. John sobbed as Paul squatted before him, lifting one of John’s feet to remove his shoe and sock, and then the other, before peeling the sodden garments off of John’s legs. He stood naked from the waist down, the soles of his feet getting wet from his own urine on the floor as Paul turned to draw a bath. He didn’t try to say anything or argue, simply stood and cried futilely until Paul finally removed his shirt and helped him into the bathtub.

“There we go,” Paul said soothingly. “A nice bath makes everything better, doesn’t it? Those teardrops will go right down the drain and out to the ocean, and everything will be much nicer after that.”

John sniffled as Paul began to lather a flannel washcloth with soap. “Really, Dad—” He cut himself off before he could finish that word, the blood already draining from his face as he looked up at Paul. 

“You can call me that,” Paul said, running the flannel over John’s back. “I like it, you know I do. You can call me Daddy any time you want to.”

“I know…” John shifted under Paul’s touch, emotionally uncomfortable but physically relaxing by the second. “It’s just… It feels like I shouldn’t be saying that. When I do it… later… it’s not something I can really control. It’s something that I need in the moment, but I feel guilty wanting it any other time. Am I making sense?”

“I think so.” Paul paused to rinse the washcloth and re-lather it. “I was raised Catholic, remember? We wrote the book on guilt. That’s kind of how I felt about you for the longest time. Sit on your knees, honey, I’m going to wash your bottom.”

John did so, a slight blush returning to his face. “Do you still feel guilty?”

He couldn’t see it, but he could hear the smile in Paul’s voice as he felt the wet flannel press between his cheeks. “Hardly ever. I figure that if no one is getting hurt, there’s not much to feel guilty for, is there?”

“You must not have been a very good Catholic.”

Paul laughed out loud at that. “No, I definitely wasn’t.” Catching John by surprise, he took his face in both hands and pulled him into a tender kiss. “But really? You aren’t going to scare me off, especially with things I told you that I like.”

“I just get afraid that I’ll take things too far,” John whispered, breaking Paul’s gaze. “That I’m gonna fuck this up somehow and you’ll never want to see me again.”

“Johnny, baby, believe me when I tell you that I‘m afraid of the exact same thing! I don’t want to do anything that will make you hate me.” 

“I could never,” John said, such conviction in his voice that it made Paul almost start crying. 

Under Paul’s gentle touch, the stress and nerves that made John’s muscles tight with tension slowly unwound. Paul hummed softly, intermittently drowned out by the small splashes of water as he washed John from head to toe, even washing his hair with shampoo and conditioner. John didn’t speak, simply let his body be manipulated to Paul’s ministrations, enjoying every second of being cared for like this. It wasn’t exactly a sexual pleasure, but a dull excitement burning in the pit of his stomach. He felt like he belonged to Paul, like he was something precious and treasured.

Soon enough, John was out of the bath and gently dried with a fluffy towel, then wrapped up snugger than a bug in an even fluffier robe. Paul led him out of the bathroom and to the bedroom; he paused to pull off his stained clothing, something that didn’t escape John’s attention and made him ache with embarrassment. Paul fell onto the bed, pulling John with him; they immediately locked lips, and their arousal at the whole situation came back full-force.“You know, I dreamed about you doing that for years,” Paul panted as they finally pulled apart. “Pete told me that you…” He trailed off, obviously realizing he was about to sell John’s friend out for revealing his embarrassing secrets. “He told me that you used to have accidents a lot, when you were kids.”

John groaned, covering his face with his hands. “That Shotton, I’ll kill him!”

Paul laughed and wrapped his fingers around John’s wrist, plucking his hand from his face so he could see that adorable, blushing visage. “He was soused to the gills, don’t beat him too badly. If it makes you feel any better, it was because I was so drunk, I had already pissed meself.”

“You and Shotton were out drinking together? Where was I?”

“You were already passed out.” 

“Aye… Sounds like me.”

The two boys giggled, not currently superstars, nor multi-millionaires, nor two of the finest composers of their generation, but merely two young men finally sharing secrets that they never thought they would. Paul gradually and carefully coaxed John into admitting not only his struggle to keep his trousers dry but his past as a bedwetter—for years, the only person outside John’s immediate family who knew John’s embarrassing nighttime condition was Pete Shotton (“under penalty of death,” John emphasized), and even then, John confessed to Paul no one knew about the thick rubber pants his aunt Mimi made him wear even as a teenager. Though John’s face was cherry red with humiliation as he whispered this to Paul in the dark, Paul groaned and it wasn’t until he grabbed John’s hand to put it on his cock that John realized how he had affected his lover. 

“She did that to you, fuck,” Paul panted. “After I met you even? Even then, you were having accidents?”

“Not every night!” John protested indignantly, and Paul groaned again. “By that time, she had pretty much given it up… But she still made me sometimes, mostly as punishment…”

By now, Paul was fully erect and wrapped his hand around John’s on his cock, urging it faster and faster. “I always thought you were so fucking handsome,” Paul whispered into John’s ear. “Handsome and tough… And bad. At the same time, you couldn’t even hold your fucking pee-pee through the night and your auntie made you wear rubber pants like a child.”

John whined and buried his face in Paul’s neck, even as he bucked his hips against Paul’s. Everything he had ever feared about people discovering his secret Paul inverted—the shame of someone finding out was an almost constant weight on his chest, even as an adult, but Paul moaned and tugged at his prick like they were talking about Brigitte Bardot and Marilyn Monroe in bed together, not John waking up as a teenager to find his rubber pants flooded once again. 

“That’s so hot, Johnny,” Paul grunted, kissing his neck as he repositioned himself so they could rub against one another. “Christ, I don’t know why it is, but it is, fucking hell, I want to see you like that. I want to do that to you. I want to see you _helpless_.”

John almost mewled at those words, melting into Paul’s embrace. Paul’s left hand found its way inside John’s robe and wrapped around his already wet member, working it steady and confidently as his partner writhed beneath him. “I always wanted to see a handsome boy piss himself,” Paul confessed, “knees shakin’, hands between his legs, blushin’ and cryin’ when he finally breaks… A handsome boy like you acting like such a baby—”

“Will you make me wear nappies?” John blurted out, and the world screeched to a stop. John’s breath caught in his lungs as Paul seemed to process this question. 

“Is that what you wanted?” he asked, eyes twinkling and smile kind. “All this time, this is what you wanted to ask me for?” As John shyly nodded, Paul only tilted his chin up and captured his lips in a sweet kiss. “Oh, honey, I wish you had told me sooner! We have a lot of time to make up for.” 

It felt like the wind was knocked out of him. John had never said this to someone, never dreamed he would say this to anyone, and yet here Paul was, leaning over him with eyes sparkling and telling him enthusiastically “Yes!” John burst into tears. 

Paul immediately pulled his hand from John’s cock, grasping him firmly by the shoulders. “Johnny, honey, what’s the matter? Baby, please, talk to me.”

Sucking in gulps of air through shaky gasps, John sobbed out, “You’re too good to me, you—you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, just because I want it…”

Gently, Paul wiped the tears from his lover’s cheeks, replacing them with kisses. “If it was something I didn’t want to do, I’d talk to you about it, love. Trust me, I’d love nothing more than to put you in a thick nappy, that’s a brilliant image.” John made a soft sound of either amusement or arousal, and buried his wet face into Paul’s neck. “You know what I like… Nappies seem to be a natural progression, right?”

Despite his almost paralyzing embarrassment, John had never been this turned on, and he started rocking against Paul, overwhelmed by that image Paul conjured of being laid down naked on top of a white fluffy diaper, powdered and taped up, Paul all the while staring down at him with love and the tiniest bit of glee in his eyes. He felt a strong hand squeeze his backside and Paul laughed softly before whispering, “I can’t wait to make you Daddy’s little nappy baby.”

That’s all it took. John came instantaneously with a sharp cry, writhing against Paul as he rode the waves of pleasure that rocked him, panting and shaky once the orgasm ran its course. Ever so shyly, he looked up at Paul, bracing himself for laughter that would come, but it never did. Paul pulled him into a brutal kiss, furiously masturbating himself at the same time. 

“Fuck, baby, you’re so fucking sexy, baby, _baby_!” Paul came hard into his hand, John kissing him all the way through, and for long after, the two of them lying together kissing sweetly and pointlessly.

John’s stomach growled in the quiet room, making Paul laugh. “You know, we never ate dinner. We got a little distracted, didn’t we?”

“Well, if you had just let me use the toilet in the first place, this wouldn’t be a problem,” John replied, stretching out with a grin. “Therefore, you should make something.”

“Not a problem, my love.” Paul pulled John into one more deep kiss before prying himself away and standing. “You stay right here, I’ll make something yummy for both of us.”

Stay here. It was an easy enough task, but only provided being alone doesn’t make you start thinking too much. It only took John a few minutes without Paul beside him to start feeling about two foot small. How could he say those things? Did he really want… that? God, he couldn’t even say it to himself, how in the hell could he say it to Paul? How could he actually do it when the time came?! 

He had learned much from his time in the red light district of Hamburg, perhaps too much when it got down to the brass tacks. Would he have ever known something like this was possible had he not glimpsed a man dressed as a gigantic baby, complete with oversized diaper and bonnet, paraded around a brothel by a scantily clad prostitute? The man made brief eye contact with John, managing to give him a quick wink and a smile around his adult-size pacifier before his companion for the night yanked him away. It was an image John couldn’t shake from his mind no matter how hard he tried (or how hard he told himself that he tried). When Paul finally returned, his stomach felt twisted in knots. What could he possibly say?

Paul set down the tray with two bowls of soup, and got back into bed beside John. “Careful, darling, it’s very hot! Would you like Daddy to feed you?”

John noticeably cringed and Paul’s demeanor instantly changed. “Johnny, what’s the matter?”

“Nothing! I just… I don’t want to play anymore right now, okay?”

Paul reached out, rubbing soothing circles on John’s back, and despite himself, John relaxed into Paul’s touch. “We don’t have to play, but are you upset? You seemed pretty happy when I went downstairs.”

“I can’t believe I told you all of that,” John said, staring into his soup. “About my aunt, about the… things I want to wear…”

“The nappies?”

John cringed again. “God, it’s fucking hard to hear you say it.”

Paul frowned, and pulled his hand from John’s back. “We don’t have to do it, you know, I thought this is what you wanted.”

“But—but—” John’s heart was racing a mile a minute, and he knew now if he couldn’t be honest with Paul, he would never be able to be completely honest with anyone. “Do you think I’m a freak?”

“Oh, darling, of course not!” Paul pressed a quick kiss to John’s cheek. 

“But you really would want to… di-diaper me? You won’t be… disgusted?”

“I could never be disgusted by you, John,” Paul said, grabbing his hand and squeezing it ever so slightly. “I love you. I won’t lie to you and say that this isn’t unusual, but I know we’re not the only ones who do this. There can’t be billions of people on this planet and all of us get off on the same thing, that’s just ludicrous. And really… I think it’s cute. Okay? I think it’s really, _really_ cute that you want to treated like a baby, and I can’t wait to put you in diapers.”

“I don’t deserve you,” John whispered, and for once, Paul was the one to blush.

“Come on, don’t say that,” he said, stirring his soup slowly with his spoon, not looking at John as he spoke. “No one _really_ deserves me, but it’s not up to them, is it now?”

That finally got John to break into a smile, and he scooted closer to Paul on the bed. “Think mighty highly of yourself, don’t you, Beatle Paul?”

“It helps when Beatle John comes home with me and lets me live out one of my biggest fantasies,” he teased, ruffling John’s still damp hair. “Now, let’s dig into this soup before it gets skin on top. Would… would you like me to feed you?” 

The gentle hesitation in Paul’s voice made John’s heart swell ever-so-slightly, and he nodded in affirmation. Perhaps he’d live to regret this, but right now, nothing could feel better than the hot tomato soup being spooned into his mouth, Paul’s kind eyes, and his constant cooed praises.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paul encourages John to indulge in his desires

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your kind words, friends!

It was the most thoughtful thing anyone had ever done for him, and it made John want to throw up. Paul had spread his purchases all over the bed, for John to peruse and blush over, and he looked so excited as he flung the door open to reveal the set-up, but John just wished the floor would crumble beneath him and he would just keep falling until he reached the center of the earth.

“I wasn’t sure what your size would be, so I had to guess a little.” John hadn’t realized Paul was talking, and he made himself look away from the bed to his lover. “I went on the large side, because I figured I can always alter it. I haven’t held a thread and needle in years though, so don’t hold me to it.” 

“Where… where did you buy these? You didn’t go in person, did you?” 

Paul’s expression softened a tad, and John knew he said the wrong thing. “Do you really think,” he started, sitting on the edge of the bed, “that I would be able to walk into a shop, me, really, in any shop, let alone one where I would walk out with an armful of adult size nappies, plastic pants, plus all these oils and powders and wipes? None of us can as much as buy loo paper for ourselves, you know that. I sent away for it all, to a little shop in Amsterdam I saw an advert for in a saucy catalog. Everything was done over the mail, I have a little mailbox in the post office under another name where it was delivered. No one is the wiser, all right?”

John sat down between Paul and a large stack of cloth diapers, clasping his hands between his knees. “I—I’m sorry. Of course you know better… Probably couldn’t find anything like this in Britain anyway…” He poked at a particularly childish pair of pink plastic panties, his stomach twisting (in revulsion? in arousal?) as it crinkled at his touch. 

“Do you not like it?” 

Paul’s sad tone and kicked puppy eyes made John hate himself. “Paul… I like it too much. It’s just… real, you know? I never thought it would be real.”

Paul leaned over and captured John’s mouth in a kiss. “It’s real, baby. Or actually, it’s play. Whatever you want to think of it as.” 

John chuckled, though he was thinking,  _ I think it’s too much, too much to go back from after this _ , but he pushed the thoughts away as he took a thick folded diaper into his hands. White cotton, what he would have worn as an actual baby; it was far too much material for an infant, but not very much for a full grown man. Paul had gotten cloth and disposable kinds, and John took a disposable one as well. It crinkled in his hands and his dick twitched at the sound. 

“I didn’t know which one you would like better,” Paul was saying, John half-listening as he unfolded the disposable diaper and squeezed the soft cotton-y padding, “on the one hand, the cloth ones are  _ so  _ soft and cute, but the disposables would make clean-up much easier…”

John’s face went red at the mention of “clean-up” and he set the diapers back on the bed before standing and pacing the room like a caged cat. “Well. Then. Uhm. How do you want to start? Take me clothes off? Do you want to spank me? Get me all worked up?”

Paul’s brow furrowed, and he stood from the bed, placing his open palm on John’s cheek. “You seem a little worked up already, Johnny. Let’s sit down and talk this out, figure out what we want here. I don’t… I don’t want to overstep my boundaries. Accidentally go too far.”

Letting Paul lead him by the hand back to the bed, they sat together, still holding hands, and John let out a long shaky sigh he hadn’t realized he was holding back. “I think I need to… relax a little bit, before we try the— the… nappies.”

Paul stroked the side of John’s face, eyes kind and understanding. “It’s hard for you to even say it, darling. You poor little thing.” At that, John made a soft noise and nuzzled into Paul’s hand. “You asked if I wanted to spank you, and I don’t want you to think that’s just something we do as foreplay. Spanking is supposed to be discipline, and you’ve been a very good boy for me recently, do you realize that?”

John squirmed in pleasure at the compliment—he had in fact been on his best behavior for Paul because, if John was being true to himself, he wanted to be Paul’s good boy. All these years, John just thought he got off on the rush and humiliation of being dominated, but Paul, as usual, managed to concoct something sweet and unique, and left John desperate for more. Leave it to Paul to make domination cute. 

“Is there anything that you don’t feel comfortable with?” 

John twiddled his thumbs in his lap, but he forced himself to keep eye contact with Paul. “Uhm… You won’t make me… go…”

“Go on, darling,” Paul prodded. 

“You won’t make me go poopy, will you?” John whispered, face bright red, like this wasn’t something that would have inevitably come up.

“Not if you don’t want to, Johnny. Either way, I love you, and I’ll clean you up no matter what.”

Christ, this discussion should  _ not  _ be affecting him like this. “I—Maybe. I don’t think I’m ready for that. But I think pee is okay.”

“Good to hear,” Paul said, a touch of laughter in his voice. “Do you maybe just want to get changed, and we’ll watch telly for a while? Maybe find some children’s programs?”

John looked to the diapers again, instantly feeling apprehensive again and Paul could tell. “Do you think you need to feel… younger, before we use the nappies?” He nodded, and Paul grinned. 

“I know just the thing. You stay right here.”

Paul dashed from the room and John was left by himself with a bed full of nappies. He took another look at the stacks, and felt he needed a cigarette badly. He lit one, relaxing a little as the nicotine entered his blood stream. What did he want Paul to do to him, once the nappy was on? Before he could let himself think of anything more than explicit images of himself and Paul, the cigarette was plucked from his fingers. “Hey!”

“Little boys  _ certainly  _ do not smoke these nasty things!” Paul said, stubbing the cigarette out into an ashtray on the nightstand. In his hand, he held a large blue sippy cup, an illustration of Mickey Mouse smiling at him. “Do you understand? No cigarettes as long we’re playing.”

John glanced from the sippy cup, up to Paul’s stern face, and his cock stiffened further in his pants. “Yes, Paul.”

“Yes what… baby?”

_ Fuck _ , McCartney would be the death of him. “Yes, I understand.”

Paul smiled ear-to-ear, and cleared off enough space on the bed for them to lie together. He didn’t have to say anything, just lie down, raise his arm, and wait for John to crawl underneath it. He pushed the lip of the sippy to John’s mouth, and John suckled tentatively as milk flowed onto his tongue and down his throat. He forced himself not to pay attention to large he felt in Paul’s slender arms, how silly he must look sucking at a child’s cup—he focused on drinking the continuous flow of milk, Paul’s musky, masculine odor and the sweet praises that tumbled out of Paul’s mouth onto his boy. Paul stroked John’s thick hair as the other man finally began to relax. He called him a good boy, a sweet boy, almost babbling and certainly not making any sense, but when he called John Daddy’s little boy, John opened his eyes and looked up at him, blinking unsteadily but smiling behind his sippy cup. Finally, the cup was empty and Paul pulled it from John’s lips.

John licked his lips nervously, catching any traces of milk left on them. “Daddy… Will you put me in a nappy now?”

“Of course, baby.” He set the sippy cup on the nightstand and stood John up. He unbuttoned his jeans and pushed them down his legs, his briefs following immediately after, and John stood awkwardly in just his t-shirt as Paul cleared off more space on the bed. His cock was half-hard, and as Paul laid him back on the bed, smiling rapaciously, he rose to full attention. “Did you decide which nappies you wanted?”

John flushed, hiding his face behind his hands, and Paul laughed. “Don’t be embarrassed, little one!”

Not saying anything, John handed Paul a disposable diaper. Paul leaned over him, planting a quick kiss on his cheek. “Green light?”

John nodded. “Green light.”

Paul unfolded the nappy, and spread it flat on the bed beside John. “Come on, baby, up and onto the nappy.”

John obeyed, positioning his butt on the nappy and laying back down. Paul grabbed the bottle of talcum powder, sprinkling liberally over John’s privates. He grasped John’s ankles and lifted him, making John gasp as the powder hit his exposed anus. “Good baby!” Paul cooed.

Paul took his time rubbing the powder into John’s skin, pressing down firmly on John’s pubis, making the boy moan softly. “Are you enjoying this, baby boy? It’s not supposed to be play time. Nappies are just an everyday occurrence for a baby like you.”

God, Paul was looking right at him as he said that, rubbing the baby powder onto his bum. What was he supposed to say? John did the only thing he could think of—he popped his thumb into his mouth and started sucking.

Paul’s face lit up and he started gushing over John like an overly attached pet owner. “Ohhh, aren’t you adorable?! Look at you, my little thumbsucker! What a cute little baby you are, yes, you are!”

Had anyone else said this, or hell, even if Paul had said it before they started all of  _ this _ , John would have decked him sideways; but John Lennon, the leader of the band, the rebel ted who often had bruises on his knuckles and claimed he’d fight God given the chance, giggled babyishly around the thumb in his mouth and rolled his hips under Paul’s hand. After so much fuss and bother, John seemed to be enthusiastically regressing to a younger mindset almost immediately.

“You’re such a good baby, Johnny,” Paul murmured. “Let’s finish getting your nappy on before you have an accident on the bed. We wouldn’t want that, now would we?” He pulled the front of the diaper closed, gently tucking John’s erection behind and safely down under the waistband before pulling the tabs shut. He squeezed John’s thickly diapered crotch, and John whined from behind his thumb, trying to rub against Paul’s hand before it moved away. 

Taking John's free hand, Paul helped him to his feet. John very purposely avoided eye contact with the full-length mirror across the room-- he knew how he must look. But Paul, lovely Paul, looked him over head-to-toe with a gentle smile and hungry eyes. "How do you feel, love?"

"Good," John mumbled from behind his thumb. It was an understatement; the thick padding felt fucking  _ delicious  _ against his cock, the way it cupped his arse, the way the material crinkled anytime he moved, making it impossible to deny or hide what he was wearing. It was just as good as he had dreamed. He wanted to orgasm, again and again, as many times as he possibly could before Paul said it was too much.

"Come, dear, let's watch some telly." Paul began to lead John out of the bedroom by his hand, but at the doorway, John stopped, unwilling to step beyond the threshold. "What's the matter, Johnny?"

"Someone might see... Someone might see me like this." 

Paul planted a sweet kiss on John's chubby pink cheek. "No one will, love. It's nighttime, we're upstairs, and the curtains are drawn. No one will see you."

With Paul's gentle prodding, John stepped into the hallway, feeling more exposed than ever before. They slowly made their way to the TV room, John's nappy crinkling and rubbing against him all the way. Paul set John down on the sofa and flipped through the stations until he found the bright colors and loud sounds.

"Cartoons!" John shouted, his features lighting up. 

"That's right, darling, cartoons! What a smart boy!"

Ordinarily, John would have been absolutely insulted by such a comment, but in this state of mind, John only giggled and wiggled his diapered bottom against the sofa cushion. Paul walked back over, but instead of sitting, he stood John up before he sat down himself, then positioned John right between his legs. "How is this, smart boy?"

"G-good..." John wiggled a little, and clearly felt Paul's erection, even through the thick padding of his nappy. Paul wrapped his arms around the boy, his hand sneaking down to the front of John's nappy, giving it a firm squeeze.

"Still dry?"

John moaned, just a tiny, high breath of a thing, but it wasn't lost on Paul. He did it again, then slipped a finger through the leg band at John's thigh. John could feel the finger sneak in, rub the front of the inside of his diaper. "Daddy just had to check, babies don't know when they're wet or dry, that's their mommy and daddy's job." 

"I'll know if I wet myself!" John snapped, forgetting his role momentarily, and Paul gave him a stern glance. 

"Johnny, are you talking back to your daddy?" Paul's dominant tone immediately sent all the blood in John's head straight to his dick, leaving him feeling slightly dizzy. He shook his head, and Paul rubbed the front of his diaper roughly, making him squirm and pant in Paul's arms. "The point is,  _ you  _ are just a baby now. You don't have to even think about whether or not your nappy is wet. Daddy is here to take care of you."

John craned his neck back and kissed Paul as deeply as he was able to, scrambling out from between Paul's legs to position himself on his lap, rutting his diapered erection against him. This whole situation, absurd and humiliating as it was, turned him on like nothing else ever has. Mouths open, they kissed hard and wet as John humped Paul's hip, Paul grabbing his bottom and pulling him as close as possible.

"That's not very babylike behavior, Johnny," Paul said when they finally separated to catch their breath, and John laughed. 

"I don't care, Daddy," John said sweetly, making Paul chuckle. "You make me so... excited... down there... I don't care, Daddy, I just  _ need  _ it."

"Oh? What do you need, baby?" With a devilish smile, Paul reached between them and gave John another firm rub on the front of his diaper, making John squeal and surge into his chest. 

"A... a cummy, Daddy," he whispered. He  _ hated  _ that word. Paul had started using it when they began playing these games, saying it felt wrong for a "little boy like John to be using big boy words like 'come.'" But that humiliating word became a trigger, making Johnny feel even smaller and hornier at its utterance. 

"Not right now, baby." And just like that, Paul's hand pulled away, and John wailed in disappointment.

"But,  _ Daddy _ \--!"

"No 'buts,' darling," he said, pressing a kiss to the top of John's head with what John would  only  describe as a shit-eating grin. "Daddy says when it's time for you to cummy, and now isn't the time. Why don't you turn around and watch your cartoons while Daddy fetches you a nice milk?"

Lower lip stuck out in the most adorable pout that Paul had ever seen, John did as he was told without a fuss. Even though he had been so voracious only moments ago, he seemed determined to be a good boy and obey, and quickly enough, he was absorbed into the bright colors and zany antics of the Looney Toons.

He was so engrossed in Bugs' shenanigans to outwit Elmer Fudd that he didn't even realize Paul had returned until he felt the lip of the sippy cup press against his mouth. The milk he drank earlier was already beginning to apply pressure to his bladder, but he didn't want to give in to wetting himself so soon after his nappy had been put on. After that make-out session, he was thirsty though... He leaned back against Paul and began to suckle noisily, never tearing his eyes from the television set.

The two cuddled on the sofa; John quickly finished his second sippy cup of milk, and his thumb naturally made its way back into his mouth. Paul didn't comment on this, but studied the way John looked like this, his long, elegant fingers curved slightly over his nose, sucking rhythmically on his thumb, his face so peaceful and content. He'd never seen John look so happy.

Several cartoons had passed before John started squirming in his seat. It was subtle at first, but quickly became more noticeable. Paul smirked, and pulled Johnny closer to him. "Do you need to tell me something, baby?"

John's face shot up, instantly red. He had thought he was being discreet. He shook his head, thumb never leaving his mouth. 

"Are you sure? You don't need Daddy to take you to the potty?"

John shook his head again, and turned back to the cartoons. The squirming continued, but Paul didn't ask John again if he needed to relieve himself. He was quite enjoying the slight discomfort on his face, the wiggling of John's hips against him, the tiny little sounds John made around his thumb. This boy was going to wet his nappy for him, sitting right here on the sofa in the middle of the living room. 

He lasted several minutes before turning to Paul and whispering, "Uh... Daddy? I gotta... I gotta..."

"Yes, darling?" Paul prodded. 

"I gotta pee-pee, Daddy," John whispered, face redder than it had ever been before.

"Baby has to tinkle?" Paul asked loudly, and John's blush deepened by yet another shade. "That's quite all right, darling boy, this is what your nappy is for. Fill it up with your pee-pee, then Daddy will change you."

John let out a soft moan, leaning over and kissing Paul deeply before rising to his knees on the couch, eyes falling shut in concentration as he tried to wet his nappy. After years of exclusive toilet use, however, it was much harder than it seemed to just "let go." He whimpered a little, the pressure on his bladder increasing, and Paul stroked the still dry front of his diaper.

"Johnny, you're such a good baby," he praised, kissing John's face as John opened his eyes and cooed softly, myopic eyes blinking unsteadily. "He’s such a smart baby boy, he knows that naughty big boys go pee-pee in their trousers, but good baby boys go pee-pee in their nappies. Isn't that right, Johnny?"

"Uh... Uh-huh..." And the thumb was back in his mouth. Where was the great wit of John Lennon now? The cutting barbs and sarcastic quips? Replaced by a thumb and a thick nappy around his waist. 

"Come on, baby Johnny," Paul encouraged, "concentrate real hard on piddling your nappy. Just imagine it flowing out of you-- you have no control over it, you're just a little baby. That's why you're in nappies. You can't control your pee-pee."

John's brown furrowed in frustration, and he whined around his thumb before pulling it out. "I can't, Daddy!" he cried, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. "Daddy, I need to go, I just--I can't--"

"Shh, shh, baby, here, why don't we..." He stood John up before him, looking up at him from the sofa. "Just relax, darling. Daddy's here. Just relax and let your pee-pee go, Think about how good it's going to feel to have that nice hot pee-pee right here in your nice soft nappy--"

John cried out, and that was it, he was wetting his nappy. Right in front of Paul, in the middle of his living room. It was some kind of nightmare, or a living dream. It started as a spurt, but immediately began a full-out stream. His nappy became hot and heavy between his legs, and despite his humiliation, John's cock reacted strongly to the feeling. 

"What a good baby!" Paul crooned, cupping John's yellowing nappy in his hand. "That's it, get all your wee-wee out. Ooh, you had a lot in you, didn't you, baby? But it feels so nice against your little baby cocklet, doesn't it?"

John moaned in surprise at that word; Paul apparently had a gift for coming up with words that John detested yet delighted him to the marrow. He was right though, it felt incredible against him. He shivered as the last drops escaped him, and now it was just him and Daddy grinning up at him, still grasping his pissy nappy.

"Daddy, I--I had an accident..."

"Oh, darling baby, no, accidents are only when you piddle or poopy in your trousers or your pants. Nappies are designed to do what toilets do, when you  _ use  _ your nappy, you are not having an accident, you're simply being a very good baby," He gave John's nappy a hard squeeze, and John's legs nearly buckled.

"Do you want Daddy to change you now?"

John squirmed under Paul's hand. "Can we... wait? A little while?"

Paul grinned ear-to-ear. "Of course, my little baby wants to enjoy his pee-pee nappy a little while, there's nothing wrong with that." He pulled John down onto the sofa, back between his legs, and his hand immediately went back to squeezing his nappy. "Daddy wants to enjoy your wet nappy too, Johnny," he whispered into John's ear, kissing the shell sweetly while doing unspeakable things below John's waist. 

John could feel Paul's erection straining against his backside, and with it, a relief greater than the one of being able to urinate. No matter how many times Paul said it, he'd always be afraid that Paul didn't really enjoy this, that he was only doing it for John's benefit, and if he didn't really enjoy it, he'd become resentful of this perversity. But Paul never let John get far in this line of thinking, whether he realized he did or not. He was so enthusiastic about everything, as turned on by it was John was, always waiting to see if John was ready to take the next step. John wiggled his bottom against Paul's cock, and Paul grunted softly, gripping John's hip and holding him in place as he rocked against John's bum. 

"Daddy's little nappy baby," he murmured, planting a wet kiss to John's shoulder. "You know what you're doing to your daddy, little baby?"

John grinned and sped up his pace. Paul rocked with him for several minutes, before finally holding John down to stop. "Not like this, baby. Let's get you changed first. That nappy must be getting a little uncomfortable by now."

"A little, Daddy. Are you-- are you gonna change me here?" The paranoia about being seen returned with a vengeance, no matter how many good and logical reasons there were how no one would ever be able to see them.

"No, honey, let's go back to the bedroom. I should have bought a changing mat, shouldn't I? That way I can change you anywhere in the house, anywhere you wet your little nappy."

John gasped. “Daddy, you wouldn’t!”

Paul ushered him down the hallway, grinning at John’s waddle to accommodate his drooping nappy. “We’ll just see about that, baby Johnny. Now, lie down on the bed for Daddy while he gets everything he needs to change you.”

John obeyed, laying back on the bed, heart steadily speeding up as he prepared himself for what was about to happen. Paul seeing him like this, in his wet nappy, exposed. Paul had said he wanted him helpless, he couldn’t feel more helpless than this.

Paul returned with an armful of supplies, placing them on the bed before leaning over so he could reach John’s face with his own. “Don’t be nervous, love. I didn’t only order nappy supplies from the shop, there were a few more things that I wanted to surprise you with, when the time was right. Open your mouth.”

John let his mouth drop open and Paul produced a dummy specifically designed for adults, the bulb passing right past his lips and onto his tongue. John’s eyes widened as he gave it a few experimental sucks, but the sucking quickly became more rapid and John’s hips starting rolling against the bed. 

“I’d say baby likes his dummy then?” Paul chuckled. “You can still suck your thumb, of course, but this leaves baby’s hands free to play.” He pressed a small, stuffed bunny into John’s hands, and moved down his body. John fought every urge to hide his face as Paul tore the tabs on his nappy, forcing himself to look at his bunny as Paul exposed him, nappy yellow and sopping wet, John rock hard and straining to be touched.

“Such a beautiful baby,” Paul breathed. “I’m the luckiest daddy in the whole wide world to have such a beautiful baby boy.” He tickled Johnny gently on the tummy, and the boy giggled from his pacifier. Though his face was still flushed, there were no signs of tears or distress. Paul took the yellowed nappy from beneath him, folding it and placing it in the bin. “Daddy’s going to wipe you now, okay? It’s a little cold.”

John made a soft noise from behind his dummy as the wipie made contact, bucking his hips up to meet Daddy’s hand. “Shush, darling, you’ve been a very good boy tonight, and we’ll play as soon as Daddy has you clean.” He quickly yet efficiently wiped up John’s private areas, very purposefully leaving John’s needy cock until last. John squeaked as Paul grabbed him by the ankles, like one would a real baby, raising his legs until his bottom was spread and exposed, and Paul dutifully wiped him, meticulously running a long swipe through his crack. 

Bottom back on the bed, Paul took a fresh wipe and finally started on John’s member, stroking slowly as John could only lie back and suck his pacifier. “Such a big baby you are, Johnny,” he murmured. “Biggest, cutest baby in the whole wide world. Gets so excited over his wet nappy bein’ changed.”

John let his eyes fall shut in humiliation, in total arousal. A part of him screamed to spit the dummy out, defend himself, but Johnny shut it out. He focused on Daddy’s words, Daddy’s praises. Daddy loved Johnny like this, wet and helpless. It didn’t matter how unnatural it was, Paul liked it.  _ John _ liked it. He loved feeling so little, so dependent, how Daddy’s attention was always on him. Paul ran the wipe over the head of John’s leaking cock, making Johnny buck his hips and gurgle from behind his oversized dummy.

“Clean and lovely, just like a baby should be,” Paul declared, and John opened his eyes, staring up cautiously. “That wasn’t so bad, now was it? Baby should get a nice reward for being so good during his nappy change.” With a devilish twinkle in his eye, he leaned over and took John’s cock into his mouth. John cried out, Paul’s tongue wrapping around him, sucking him like he was sucking his dummy… John lasted mere moments in Paul’s mouth before exploding in orgasm loudly, obviously, Paul catching most of his spunk in his mouth, swallowing it as John rode out the last waves of his come.

“How do you feel, sweetheart?” Paul whispered, crawling up the bed to lay beside John. 

With a bit of reluctance, he pulled the dummy from his mouth before planting a kiss on Paul’s lips. “Amazing. You’re amazing.”

“I didn’t overdo it?”

“Christ, no, God, don’t change a thing. I couldn’t come up with anything better than tonight with a hundred years of planning. And the end… I wasn’t expecting you to… to…”

Paul stroked his hair, smiling kindly as John struggled to find the words. “You weren’t expecting a blowie? Because… I had just changed your nappy?”

John buried his face into Paul’s neck, embarrassed despite that just having happened. Paul laughed very softly, taking John into his arms. “You were clean, baby, I did it myself, so don’t worry your pretty head about that.”

“But how can you… still want me?”

Paul rolled his eyes, only half-exaggerating his exasperation. “Baby, I am more than happy to show you how much I still want you.” He grabbed John’s hand, placing it on the crotch of his trousers, where Johnny felt Paul’s own straining erection. He smiled, and Paul unzipped himself, pulling his cock out. “You don’t have to do anything if you don’t feel like it, but Jesus Christ, I just want to fuck your little baby brains out,” he growled.

It’s like a fuse to all of John’s inhibitions fizzled with Paul uttered those words. He moaned, high in his throat, spreading his legs, attempting to rub against Paul’s hardness in any pathetic way he could. Paul growled animalistically, pushing John onto his stomach, spreading him to his liking, Two vaseline covered fingers quickly entered him, had him on his knees and back to full hardness within minutes.

“I need you to say you want this, baby,” Paul whispered into his ear, positioning himself behind him, erection rubbing tantalizingly against his arse. “You need to tell Daddy it’s okay for him to do this.”

“Oh yes, Daddy, I need you!” John cried, any pretense of dignity gone right out the window. “I need you in me! Please, Daddy!” 

The head of Paul’s cock pushed past John’s perimeter, but John didn’t cry out-- Paul held the dummy to his lips and John latched on, suckling hard as Paul thrust hard and fast inside on him. “My baby, Daddy’s baby,” Paul grunted, grasping his hips so hard John was sure he’d have bruises. “Daddy loves you so much, my pissy little baby.”

Out of all the things that happened tonight, to John perhaps the most humiliating was cumming from simply that. Paul didn’t last much longer, continuing to fuck John through his orgasm, saying the sweetest, dirtiest things. He came crying John’s name though.

They lay together, silent except for shallow panting and the sounds of their hearts slowly returning to normal. “You okay, Johnny?” Paul asked quietly, and John nodded.

“Sorry I couldn’t last longer. It’s just--”

“You don’t have to explain. I was prepared to… y’know, go without, if you didn’t feel like it. I just want you to know that’s an option, if you ever didn’t want to…”

John felt a tear drip down his cheek, and he laughed shakily. “God, where did that come from? Anyway, though, Paulie… thank you. It helps to know that.”

“Of course, Johnny. I’d never make you do anything you didn’t feel like. Just like you wouldn’t for me. I did a little reading up on these kinds of relationships.” John raised an eyebrow. “Maybe not exactly like  _ our  _ relationship, but couples who get off on domination and submission games. There’s something called aftercare, because sometimes the submissive can be a little upset after reality comes back. I get it, I understand, it’s hard to give up control and you’re letting me do all these things to you.. But I can just hold you, help clean you up, get you something to drink… I think it may even be a good time for a cigarette break, eh?”

“I thought I wasn’t allowed,” John said, voice breaking a little. How had he ever been good enough in any life to deserve the man beside him now?

“I’ll make an exception for now,” Paul replied, pulling out two cigarettes and lighting both before handing one to John. “You really feeling alright?”

John took a long, steady drag on the cigarette before answering. “Honestly? Yeah. I’m fab, Paulie. I feel wonderful. I thought I wouldn’t, I thought I’d hate meself after this was over. But you did a very good job at taking care of me, Daddy.” He gave Paul a cheeky smile before taking another drag of the cigarette.

“I’m happy to hear that. Were you… will you spend the night? You’re not needed at home?”

John shook his head, maybe a little too quickly. “I’m all yours. Could we… do it again?”

Paul grinned. “Of course, darling. I seem to recall someone telling me that you have a little bedwetting problem. I hope it’s not a problem, but you’ll need to be in nappies if you’re to sleep over.”

“Daddy, that isn’t fair!” John whined, though a smile poked through his pout. “I haven’t had a nighttime accident in years!”

“Better safe than sorry, little one.” He kissed John’s forehead, but he didn’t move to fetch a fresh diaper, just pulled his partner closer to him while they finished their cigarettes in contented silence.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John has a bedwetting incident that leaves him a little shaken

_He was backstage. They all were, waiting to perform. Chest tightening, pulse racing. Where were they, what were the words to the songs, where--where were his trousers? He was standing naked in the green room, thousands of fans merely feet away beyond the concrete walls. The other boys looked at him with disdain, open mockery of their leader. George whispered something to Ringo that made him laugh, but he couldn’t hear over the roar of the crowd._

_“Where is my suit?” he cried, trying to cover himself, like they hadn’t already seen everything. “Please, someone will come in any minute!”_

_“Isn’t he just adorable?” Brian said, leaning over and pinching John on the chubby cheek. “You’re such a good talker, Johnny!”_

_“What the fuck are you talking about!” John exclaimed, but the other men just laughed._

_“He may be getting fussy,” a familiar voice said, emerging from the edge of the room. “Baby hasn’t had a chance to nap today. Come, baby Johnny, let Daddy put you in your nappy and you can sleep while the grown-ups play their show.”_

_Then he was crying, big blubbery tears rolling down his cheeks, screaming and wailing as he found himself on the floor. “Paul! Paul, no! I’m not a baby!” Paul only shushed him and slipped a humongous pink dummy into his mouth. He was in nappies. Dummy bobbing back and forth in his mouth. Baby bonnet strapped under his chin and feet wrapped in booties. And everyone was looking at him. And he was peeing. Peeing in his nappy. It was so hot, pooling around his testicles and shamefully, making him hard._

_“Oh no, are you peeing already?” Paul asked, disgust coming over his face. “I just put you in this nappy! You’re just going to have to wait until the show is over for a change. Now come.” He grabbed John’s hand, starting to drag him out the door._

_“Daddy! Daddy, no, please!”_

John’s eyes flew open with a gasp, heart pounding like he was going into cardiac arrest. Early morning sunlight was streaming through the windows. He was in Paul’s bed, but… Paul wasn’t. 

He sat up, trying to gain his composure until he realized that the nappy Paul had changed him into last night before bed was wet. He hadn’t had a bedwetting incident in years, at least not one that wasn’t precipitated by alcohol. John’s lower lip wobbled and suddenly he was doing everything he could to hold back his tears. Had Paul seen this and left? He wouldn’t… But no one would want something to do with an adult bedwetter… Still sensitive from his nightmare, John burst into tears.

He cried so loudly he didn’t even notice Paul enter the room until he sat on the bed, wrapping his arms around John. “Honey, sweetie, what’s the matter?” Paul asked, wiping the tears from his face. “There’s no need to cry, I’m right here.”

John couldn’t say anything, only threw himself into Paul’s arms, blubbering just like the baby he was in his dream. But this Paul wasn’t cruel. This Paul held him, stroked his hair, told him he loved him. Eventually, the tears stopped and John’s breathing became even. “I’m so sorry, Johnny,” he murmured, running a hand over his back in soothing circles. “I should have been here when you woke up. I should have thought.”

“It’s okay,” John whispered. “I had a bad dream. Then I woke up, and I didn’t know where you were…” He shifted a little, deliberately not mentioning his wet nappy. Not yet.

“Oh, baby, I’m so sorry!” Paul said, kissing John across his face. “I actually… Was getting something for you, something I wanted to give you when you woke up.” John can’t believe he didn’t see it before. A baby bottle, filled to the brim with milk. “Can I feed you?” Paul whispered. John’s stomach fell to his feet. He wouldn’t be able to put this feeling into words--he wanted Paul to feed him like that, but the humiliation of his dream was so raw and fresh, the feeling of the wet nappy around his private parts… He didn’t say anything, but crawled into Paul’s lap, letting him put the nipple between John’s lips and began suckling.

“That’s it, little baby,” Paul murmured. He let his hand drift to John’s waist, then beneath the elastic band of his plastic panties. He had dressed John into a thick pair of cloth nappies last night, with the panties on top in case of leaks. John kept his eyes firmly closed as Paul squeezed the front of his nappy, weak rivulets of piss running down his inner thighs when he did. “Oh, darling! You must have wet your nappy sometime during the night! My little bedwetter.” He squeezed John again, focusing on his half-erect cock. “You’re a heavy wetter, aren’t you, love? It’s a good thing you had protection on, you needed it.”

John tried to pull away from the bottle, to defend himself, but Paul held him firmly in place. “Ah-ah,” he tutted. “You’re going to stay right here until you’re finished.”

Paul was surprisingly strong, a fact that John often forgot. That pretty face could throw you for a loop, despite knowing exactly who he was and what he was capable of. Or maybe John was just a weak little baby. He struggled slightly in Paul’s grasp, but Paul just chuckled. He knew John needed to seem like he didn’t want this, that it added spice to something already delicious. After only a moment of struggle, John seemed to concede defeat, snuggling close back into Paul’s chest and suckling deeply on his bottle.

Paul continued to fondle him, making John squirm in arousal and embarrassment. “You wet yourself so easily, love,” he murmured, kissing John’s ear. “Maybe you should be wearing nappies all the time now. You don’t want anyone else to know you’re a little baby bedwetter, do you?”

John struggled in Paul’s arms, gurgling as he tried to speak but Paul kept the nipple of the bottle firmly in his mouth, milk flowing down his throat without end. He finally bursting free and leapt to his feet, stumbling in his haste. “Stop it, just stop! Red light, fucking red light!” His face was bright red and his chest rose up and down rapidly, his breathing heavy as he tried to contain himself.

“Baby, I’m sorry--” Paul started, but John cut him off.

“I’ve got to get out of this shit,” he muttered, glancing at his lower half and grimacing. “I’m going to shower.” He could easily see the shock and hurt on Paul’s face, but he stormed into the bathroom anyway, slamming the door behind him. As soon as the door closed, his shoulders fell, all the anger he felt suddenly and sickeningly turning into self-hatred. He ripped the plastic panties off, and removed the safety pins in his nappy. It fell to the floor in a wet, loud plop, and John shuddered at the sound. How could he have let himself do this? How could he let Paul see him this way? He turned the shower on, waiting until the water was nearly scalding before stepping in. He scrubbed himself as hard as he could, but still felt the grimy knowledge of what they had done. 

John knew that Paul was just talking, not meaning anything by his comment earlier. He would never make John wear in public, never make him expose himself in that way… unless John wanted him to. But what if he was right? What if he did have an accident in public? On stage, even? What if this triggered something in him, and after years of dry beds, he’d keep having nighttime accidents? He imagined waking up in a piss-soaked bed with Cynthia, trying to explain as she looked at him with pity and disgust. No one was like Paul. No one would ever understand it.

Feeling slightly more protected in Paul’s fluffy bathrobe, John stepped back into the bedroom. Paul looked terrible, which was to say slightly less lovely than normal. It was obvious he’d been crying. John forgot all of his worries in that instant, rushing to his partner’s side. “Macca, love, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

Paul laughed a little, despite tears shining in his eyes. “No, Johnny, don’t apologize. I took it too far, just like I thought I would. You had every right to be angry with me.”

“I’m not angry, Macca.” John took Paul’s hands and sat cross-legged on the bed in front of him. “Really, I’m not.”

“You could have fooled me, storming off like that. I thought, that was it, it’s over.”

“Paul,” John sighed, “I wet the bed for pretty much my whole bloody childhood. I was terrified, _petrified_, that someone would find out. I haven’t done it… since Hamburg, I guess, and I… I’m afraid it’ll happen more. When I’m not with you. When I’m in public. And I can’t control it.”

Paul raised John’s hands to his mouth and kissed his knuckles. “Johnny, I’m sorry, I should have realized. Can I though--I just want to say, I think it’s just because you had the nappy on. I think your mind realized it was okay because you were wearing--”

“But what if it’s not?” John snapped. “What if it happens when I’m with Cyn? She’ll have to learn she has two babies in the household. The way she’d look at me, Jesus fuck…”

“Johnny.” Paul squeezed John’s hands, not painfully but firmly. “That hasn’t happened. I won’t promise that it won’t, because if it does, I don’t want to be held to saying that. But it hasn’t happened. And I don’t think it will, but _if_ it does, we’ll take care of it then. The two of us.” Paul sighed, and let go of one of John’s hands to rub the back of his neck. “Look. If for some reason, someone, anyone finds out, I’m not going to leave you to take the fall yourself. I’ll be there right there with you.”

“Really?” John smirked, trying not to act like he wasn’t completely smitten with the man before him. “Even if everyone thinks you’re a dirty letch?”

“Especially if everyone thinks I’m a dirty letch!” Paul exclaimed with a wide grin. “We’ll letch off together, go start a new life where no one knows us except as the dirty old pervs up the road.”

“Is that a promise or a threat?” Before Paul could answer, John trapped him in a kiss.

***

The two men spent the morning and afternoon as they normally would-- a joint with their coffee followed by breakfast, listening to records, and after another joint with lunch, they were sprawled on the floor of Paul’s music room, trying to write a new song but too high to properly do anything. 

“Okay, okay, how about this,” Paul said, breathless after another laughing fit John had coaxed him into. _“I met him at the candy sto-ore--”_

John burst into another fit of giggles before chiming in, “_Turned around and smiled at me, get the picture?_ Sorry, love, I think the Shangri La’s already did that one.”

“Aw damn,” Paul said with feigned disappointment and a toothy grin. “Now how will I tell the world of the handsome rebel I fell for at the candy store?”

“I wonder if they’d let us bring a motorcycle into the studio,” John wondered out loud, crawling over to Paul and sitting next to him. Even though there were plenty of seats in the room, they both sat with their backs against the sofa, and John rested his head on Paul’s shoulder. “I mean, Tchaikovsky had a bloody cannon, we can at least have a motorcycle.”

“Fair argument,” Paul murmured, running his fingers through John’s hair. They fell silent, just sitting there, basking in what they had made together. John’s eyes closed, and after several minutes, his fingers came to rest against his lips. Paul held his breath, and sure enough, John’s thumb slipped into his mouth and he started sucking. Paul didn’t dare move or say a word for fear it would spook him, only continued to stroke his hair while John sucked his thumb peacefully.

They sat like that for several minutes before John seemed to break out of his reverie and pulled his thumb from his mouth, sitting himself up straight with a manlier-than-usual _harrumph_ that made Paul laugh. “You don’t have to do that, you know,” he said, a kind smile on his face.

“Dunno what you’re talkin’ about.”

“You don’t have to do any of that… posturing, I guess. Trying to make me think you’re still a tough guy after what we’ve been doing.” John’s face darkened, and he opened his mouth before Paul hastily added, “I’m not saying you’re not, Johnny! What I’m trying to say… Fuck, I’m just trying to say that you can act _little_ with me, and not get embarrassed about it. You’re still you.” 

He took John’s hand in his, and hoped that John wasn’t relishing the irony that Paul was the one blushing now. “Out there, you’re a tough mother, but in here… You’re my sweet boy.” John made a soft sound at that, and Paul cupped his cheek. “You can be both, but you don’t have to pretend to be one when you’re feeling like the other.”

“I feel like I’ve waited my whole life for someone to tell me that,” John whispered, the beginnings of tears in his eyes, and Paul pulled him close for a deep kiss. People truly did contain multitudes, but Paul never knew how true it was until John. He thought people were more like shallow tidal ponds, teeming with tiny flits of life, but John was a galaxy. John was a universe, and his multitudes contained entire worlds. Maybe that’s why he often felt lost--he was simply too large for himself.

They kissed for a long time, John somehow ending up on Paul’s lap in the middle of everything, but eventually, not consciously, they stopped, Paul holding John close to them, and they listened to each other’s hearts. “John, love?” Paul murmured. “Can we talk?”

“Well, you did it, just now,” John murmured back, a cheeky smirk pulling at the corners of his lips.

“Little brat,” Paul chuckled and it warmed John lovingly, making him duck his head to hide his bashful grin. “I meant, can we talk about what happened this morning?”

John sighed, but the pot made it easier to open up, to not care as much about embarrassing himself. “You mean why I flipped my wig?”

“No, not particularly… I mean, we can, but I think I understand… There are certain things that are off-limits, right? And the… night-time incidents are one of them.” 

John knew Paul was trying to be understanding, but saying “night-time incidents” made him want to crawl into a hole. “Apparently they are, but Jesus Christ, Paul, don’t ever use that term again. Just say bedwetting, for the love of all that’s holy.”

Paul laughed. “I can, and will. I didn’t mean to upset you, you know that, right?”

“Of course I do. I just--I just started feeling angry and scared when you said that, and I couldn’t talk with the bottle in my mouth, then I couldn’t breathe…” 

“Love, I’m so fucking sorry,” Paul whispered, pain written on his pretty features. “I should have noticed something was wrong.”

“It’s okay,” John said quickly. “You couldn’t have known how I would react. I didn’t know, really.”

“Is there… anything else that might cause you to react this way?”

John thought for a few seconds. “Well… Anything to do with Julia. I don’t know if you’d ever bring her up anyway. Or Auntie Mimi.”

“I definitely was not going to mention any of our family members during sex, but thanks for the warning,” Paul teased, and John giggled. He never thought this would be easy, but Paul made him think otherwise. To think he could just _talk_ to his lover about what he wanted, what he didn’t want, with no judgments. He never thought he’d be this lucky.

“I don’t think I’d want you to talk about my weight either,” John said quietly, and Paul’s heart panged for him. John never said anything outright about the weight he’d put on over the last year or so, but the offhand self-deprecating comments came more often, and Paul couldn’t convince him that he was just as handsome as he’d ever been.

“I’d never,” Paul croaked, his throat suddenly dry, only then realizing he was on the verge of tears. “Oh Johnny, I’d never do anything to purposefully hurt you.”

“I know, I know, Macca,” John said, kissing his cheeks and his nose and his forehead, everywhere but his lips. “Only if I ask you to.”

Paul could have been a detective in another life; within the hour, he had drawn out of John his limits, his desires, and his curiosities. They settled on a safe word--Paris. John was under no uncertain circumstances to say that word whenever he felt the slightest bit overwhelmed by their play. “You are in charge,” Paul said. “I may be the dominant, but you say that one word and I will stop immediately. And if I don’t, just kick me in the nuts or something.”

John burst out laughing. “I’ll try something less dramatic than that first!”

They fell into a comfortable silence, John’s upper half cradled in Paul’s arms while his legs spread out over the floor. He closed his eyes and rested his head on Paul’s chest, but behind John’s peaceful facade, his mind was going a mile-a-minute. He hadn’t used the toilet all day and his bladder was to the point of bursting. Humiliating as it was, he knew that he needed to prove to Paul what this meant to him. What _Paul_ meant to him. Scrunching his eyes even more tightly closed, he willed himself to let go.

Paul heard the sound before anything else. A soft hiss, then the smell hit his nose. He glanced at John’s crotch, and sure enough, John was wetting himself, right there on the floor where he lay. He hadn’t opened his eyes, just kept acting like nothing was happening. Paul was instantly and ferociously hard.

“Johnny, did you not know that you needed to pee-pee?” Paul asked, voice firm and authoritative. John’s insides twisted in arousal at that tone. It seemed like a trick question, but John didn’t really want to find the right answer.

“I thought I could hold it, Daddy,” he whined, squirming in the puddle he had made. Paul stood the two of them up, piss dripping down John’s legs and making him shiver.

“Tsk tsk,” Paul tutted, looking John up and down. “I dare say, Johnny, your potty training is much more lacking than I thought. We may have to give you some lessons.”

Paul glanced at John, eyebrows raised as if to ask if this was all right, that this was just part of the game, but he needn’t have worried. John let out a loud moan, knees inverting at that idea. “Oh, Daddy, no, no, I don’t… I don’t need… potty training…”

“Are you speaking back, little boy?” Paul was steadily raising his voice until he was yelling. “You’re _supposed_ to be an adult, but look at you, standing here in your pissy jeans, in your little puddle. You didn’t even try to use the toilet, Johnny, because you like having accidents. You like being wet and having Daddy to clean you up.”

John was sobbing but _God_, he was hard to the point of aching. “Daddy, Daddy, I’m sorry!” he wailed. “I just wanted to have an accident for you!”

Paul brought John close to him, wrapping his arms around his shaking shoulders. “Shh, little darling. I understand, but from now on, I want you to tell Daddy when you need to potty, okay? If you don’t have a nappy on, I can help you get to the toilet. Daddy isn’t angry, but he does need to punish you.”

John moaned and whined at the same time, thrilled and mortified at the prospect. “But--But, Daddy!”

Paul pulled the dummy out of his pocket and popped it into John’s mouth without a moment’s hesitation. He must have been carrying it around for hours, just waiting for the right chance. “No but’s, love.” He stripped John’s wet trousers and underwear off, leaving John half-naked and still wet. Instead of cleaning him, he led him over to the corner of the room. John looked at him, questioning.

“Nose to the wall.”

John faced the corner, and put his face as close to the wall as physics would allow, sucking rapidly on his dummy. In the small space, he could feel the heat from his face radiating from the walls surrounding him. His erection never waned, even when Paul gave him a single hard spank on his bottom before leaving the room.

John waited patiently until he heard Paul return a few minutes later. He didn’t say anything to the boy in the corner, but John could hear him start scrubbing the floor, cleaning the remnants of John’s accident before it could do damage to the floor. After maybe ten minutes, Paul made his way to John. He ran a wet washcloth down and over his legs, between his cheeks, and finally his crotch. He didn’t say a word, but gave Johnny a quick tug before pulling his hand away. John whined behind his pacifier, stamping his foot softly.

“What was that, little boy?”

John was still. He heard Paul leave the room, then re-enter moments later. He sat down… He sounds like he’s… lying down? Paul makes a noisy show of laying on the sofa, and deliberately opening a book, turning the pages loudly. John stood dutifully in the corner, certain that he may throttle Paul when this was all over.

Paul had just laughed too gaily over something in his book, the doorbell rang. A spike of terror shot through John’s chest, and he turned to look at Paul over his shoulder. He looked just as surprised as John did. “Stay here, darling, I’ll take care of it.”

Before John could think of doing anything, Paul was already gone. John turned back to the corner. He didn’t want to disobey Daddy, even when he wasn’t there. Even though his heart pounded at the thought of whoever was on the other side of the door, he knew Paul wouldn’t let anyone see him like this.

He got so caught up in his nerves, he didn’t hear Paul return to the room until he was right beside his ear. “Love, I’m so sorry,” he murmured. “Derek is here with some papers I need to sign, it shouldn’t take very long. Are you doing okay? I can tell him to come back tomorrow.”

John paused, then nodded. He could do this. He wanted to.

Paul grinned. “That’s my boy. Now, I’m not saying I don’t trust you, but I know how touchy little boys can be. Daddy wants you to keep your hands _off_ your willy, but this is a very exciting situation for you, and I’m not sure you’ll be able to withstand temptation. Put your hands behind your back for me.” John did so, and found his wrists being tied with a soft nylon rope. 

“This is a good chance to practice holding in your pee-pee too,” Paul whispered into his ear, giving his cock a few slow strokes. “I won’t put you in a nappy now, but if I come back and see a new little puddle, I’m going to start taking your potty training very seriously indeed.”

John shuddered in Paul’s arms, thrusting himself back onto his lover, but Paul firmly settled him back in place. And so John was left alone, bound, gagged, and dripping hard.  
It wasn’t so bad at first. John let his mind wander, always snapping back to hyperfocus when he heard one of the two men’s voices downstairs. He tried to keep time by counting the seconds, but quickly lost track. He stared at the patterns in the wallpaper, looking for some kind of hidden message or meaning. God, it must have already been an hour.

It had only been fifteen minutes, but for John, that might have been an eternity. He sniffed the air. Those bastards had lit up a joint! And--and-- John strained his ears. They were listening to _Pet Sounds_. That bastard. Paul truly did intend to punish him. While he entertained, John stayed glued to the corner, fuming that Paul would leave him like this, but also incredibly turned on that Paul would leave him like this.

He must have dozed off on his feet, because the next thing he knew, Paul’s arms were wrapped around his waist, his lover kissing his neck and side of his face over and over. “My sweet boy,” Paul murmured. “Such a good boy, behaving himself during his punishment, staying dry for Daddy.” 

John whined and bucked his hips, attempting to show Daddy exactly _how_ he could reward him for being so good. He was immediately hard again, but this time Paul didn’t neglect him. He took John out of the corner and bent him over the nearest piece of furniture, which happened to be the loveseat, stroking his cock steadily. John heard a wet pop, then felt spit-slick fingers unceremoniously enter him.

“The whole time I was downstairs,” Paul panted, “I thought about doing this to you, fucking you stupid right where you stand. The thought of you standing up here in the corner, like a naughty little boy with your pants down, the thought that Derek could have found you…” He attacked John’s ear with more wet kisses, making John moan and pant, nearly overcome with sensory overload.

“Daddy, Daddy, I want it!” John moaned, pushing back against Paul’s fingers.

Paul responded by pulling his fingers out of John and giving him a hard spank on the bottom. “Patience is a virtue, Johnny dear. You stay just like this.” Paul walked away from him, and John nearly sobbed, trying to keep himself from rubbing off on the sofa. 

Paul returned with vaseline, and within moments, he had prepared himself, the head of his prick poking at John’s opening. Instead of entering him, he just rubbed his cock against John, teasing him and making him have to beg for what he wanted.

“Please, Daddy!” John wailed, trying desperately to buck his hips back into Paul. “Please, I need it!”

“What do you need, baby?” Paul whispered into his ear. “You have to tell Daddy.”

“I need you to fu--” John cut himself off, remembering that “naughty words” were off-limit. “I need you to--to put it in my bottom, Daddy.”

“What a good boy,” Paul cooed, giving John what he wanted and entering him. “What a good, obedient boy for Daddy.” He fucked John hard and rough; having to wait downstairs with Derek instead of doing this to John was almost a punishment for him too. 

“Daddy, Daddy!” John gasped, craning his neck to look up at Paul, only to be pulled into a brutal kiss. Paul couldn’t hold out any longer and groaned into the kiss as he came inside John. The feeling of Paul finishing inside him sent John over the edge as well, pulling away from the kiss to bury his face in his forearms, moaning high in his throat and whimpering as the waves of pleasure rolled over him.

“Come on, love,” Paul whispered in his ear, and the next thing John realized was that Paul was carrying him back to the bedroom, John’s legs wrapped around his waist and Paul’s arms supporting his bottom. He cuddled into the embrace before he was laid on the bed.

“Would you like me to put you in a little nappy, love?” Paul murmured, stroking his hair gently. John nodded, smiling and blinking sleepily up at his lover. Paul grinned, and slipped John’s pacifier into his mouth while he gathered the supplies. John knew he shouldn’t like the dummy so much, but he did find it strangely comforting. As Paul wiped and powdered him, he didn’t feel embarrassed or exposed, simply loved and cared for. After he affixed the tabs to the disposable nappy, he looked at John’s face to gauge his feelings, and John gave his partner the biggest smile from behind his dummy, making grabby hands at the person he loved and wanted most in the world.

Paul laughed, joy painted all over his face, and he kissed John’s cheeks. “Stay right here, darling.” Before leaving the room, he pushed something into John’s hand. A rattle. A baby rattle, with illustrations of dummies and bottles on it. It made John blush, but he gave it an experimental shake and giggled at the sound. He did it again, and a third time. By the time Paul returned, John didn’t even notice until Paul sat next to him.

“I’m glad you like your new toy, Johnny,” he said with a gentle smile. “Now. Would you like to try this again?” In his hands, he held the baby bottle, filled with milk, and with a smile, John crawled onto his daddy’s lap.

Paul plucked the dummy from John’s lips, and gave him a quick kiss before saying, “You’ll let me know if you get uncomfortable, right?”

John nodded, smiling shyly. “How ‘bout… I tug on your hair like this?” He gave Paul’s dark locks a very gentle tug, and Paul smiled back, putting the nipple to John’s mouth. He suckled it in, sweet cold milk flowing down his throat immediately. Despite the protestations of John in his dreams, the nightmare that felt like years ago now, he _loved_ being a baby. He loved being cute and playful; he loved being small and helpless in Paul’s arms. But most of all, he loved Paul, and he loved being Paul’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, guys! I'll try to write more stories like this in the future! Please message me if you want to talk about little!John, because that's almost literally my reason for living, and I hope I get to see little!Johnny fics from you guys as well. <3


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